


Lioness

by Bluemoonflower



Category: Earth's Children - Jean M. Auel
Genre: Ascension, F/M, Gen, Gods and Goddesses, Misses Clause Challenge, Power of Woman, Rituals, Sacrifice, Self-Discovery, Spirit World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-09 17:16:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12892854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluemoonflower/pseuds/Bluemoonflower
Summary: All alone in her cave in the Valley of Horses, Ayla makes a decision that could radically change her future.





	Lioness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [candiru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/candiru/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide!

It was a sin, this thing she was about to do. 

It was unforgivable. 

But she was doing it all the same.

The first time had been an accident. Back when she was still living with the Clan. Iza had been sick, too sick to come to the Gathering, so Creb had asked her to prepare the sacred drink for the Mog-urs instead. Ayla was too young, not a fully trained Medicine Woman yet, and technically she wasn’t really Clan, but still he had chosen her out of all others. 

She had been proud. So very very proud, that the man who was like a father to her, the Clan’s great magician, would trust her to this extent. So she had taken on the task with fervour, mashing up the root in the exact same way Iza had explained; a ritual passed on from one Medicine Woman to the next, a string of hands making the same movements, of lips muttering the same short noises, trailing back into the mists of time. But in spite of all her careful efforts, things had gone wrong. She had discovered she'd prepared too much, and the drink couldn’t be wasted. Ayla was far from home and she was performing a secret mystical task of the utmost importance. There was no one she could ask for advice, no one to help her. And she didn’t want to let Creb down. So, too instilled with the mortal fear of spilling what was sacred, she had secretly downed the leftover potion herself.

It had been awful. Like being little and trapped in the earthquake again, everything crumbling down around her. This is what dying must feel like, she had thought. She had seen things she didn’t understand, all around her but just out of reach, things that would never let her go. Creb had known. Afterwards, it hadn’t been the same between them. _She_ had never been the same. Her feelings, her thoughts, her very dreams were altered.

Ayla had never expected she would prepare the potion ever again. 

But tonight, she had. And this time, it had been in the full realisation of what she was doing. 

It was a sin. It was unforgivable. She, a mere woman, unworthy, banished, her entire existence itself forbidden. And yet that was what she asked the Spirits to do now: forgive her. As she sat by the fire, her legs crossed underneath her, Ayla made the signs to speak to the Great Cave Lion, her totem, and asked him to look kindly upon her. Living in the valley she had beaten the odds by surviving on her own, without the protection of the Clan. Still, that was all it had been: surviving. She had Whinney, and she’d had Baby for a while, and she was grateful for that. Without them, she would never have made it this far. But a horse and a lion couldn’t make up for other people. Not really. Ayla craved the company of her own kind. A family. A _mate…_

She was terrified of the potion, of what it could do. But she couldn’t handle being alone anymore. She just couldn’t. Ayla’s eyes darted to the polished wooden cup in front of her. At the way the flames reflected on the surface of the thick, syrupy liquid. She was sitting with her upper body exposed, her skin covered in a thin layer of sweat from the heat of the fire. Instinctively, her hands felt their way to the little totem bag that dangled between her breasts. She held onto it for a moment, the comforting shapes of the objects inside pressing reassuringly against her palm. She tapped into their strength. Into her _own_ strength. With a deep breath, she raised the cup to her lips and drank.

As her mouth filled with the bitter taste of the sacred root, Ayla focused her attention. She cleared her mind. And then, she _called._

Sitting by the fire, she felt her wish echo out into the void, further and further, like a wordless, soundless scream. Time passed. She had no idea how much. Then the fire’s red glow was swallowed by a wave of darkness. It rushed in on her, and before she could blink her eyes she was falling, falling, falling… Falling upwards, her body rising into to the night’s sky. The little lights of the Spirits’ homesteads were all around her — inside of her. Her call echoed among them, louder now, and she could hear other voices joining in. First there were only a few, but soon thousands upon thousands of faceless pleas strengthened her call.

It seemed to go on forever, the sound building to an unbearable volume.

The answer came as a hiss. A deep, rolling sigh that drowned out the other voices. It boiled her blood, rattled her bones and made her teeth chatter.

Then everything went black.

 

*

 

When Ayla regained consciousness, she was on the open steppes, high above the valley. 

And she was _different,_ somehow.

The fear was gone.

There were no doubts anymore, no worries or uncertainties. She knew exactly where she needed to be. Without thinking, Ayla turned her steps away from the pale morning light dawning on the horizon. To the West, that was where her quarry lay. 

She moved along at an easy pace, revelling in the feel of the muscles flexing underneath her skin. Her body felt apt, capable, strong. She could see more clearly, smell and hear and taste in a new, more complete way. There lay details in the half-darkness, never discovered before. When dawn broke, the colours seemed to have a different hue to them. There was more depth, more contrast to things. Effortlessly, she picked up variations in the air, whiffs of the little creatures in the grass all around her, of the _memories_ of those creatures passing by. A familiar smell mingled in with the others, and she knew she was heading in the right direction.

Mid-morning, Ayla reached Baby. He was alone too, having left his pride behind to come and meet her. It had been weeks since they had last seen each other. He was big. But then so was she. She greeted him by pushing her head against his, eyes closed with contentment. Her ability for words and even sign language was gone. It didn’t matter. She communicated in a different way now. In spite of the changes she had undergone, Baby recognised her immediately, as she’d known he would. They clawed at each other, and rejoiced.

The two cave lions continued on together, still to the West, not even stopping to lie and rest when the sun reached its zenith. As they trotted along, Ayla could smell Baby’s heavy, wild animal scent beside her. The dried blood in his mane. The other lionesses he shared his life with now. That was all right, though. Baby wasn’t a mate to her, but a son.

It was high summer, and the tundra was a patchwork of deep goldens and rich browns. A herd of saiga antelope fled upon their approach. The lions didn’t look up. Today, their interest lay elsewhere. Side by side, Ayla and Baby padded over the steppes, steadily closing in on their prey. Inside of Ayla, the hunger grew. She relished the raw feel of it. The drive it gave her, wordless and otherworldly. This was the answer the Spirits had given her. A physical answer: the voice of the Great Cave Lion. And of someone else, too. Ayla couldn’t hear them clearly, not yet. The sound grew louder, though, as steadily as her approach. A whisper that added on to the hunger. Yes, a _female_ voice. A new Spirit, and at the same time one so very old.

 _Speak to me, Mother,_ Ayla dreamt.

And the Mother did.

 

*

 

Jondalar woke up just before dawn, covered in sweat, his chest heaving. There had been a sound, a scream of some sort. He didn’t know where it had come from. But it had left only one thought in his mind, clear and sharp as an ice crystal: “Go East.”

They packed up and left at once, not even bothering to boil water for their morning tea. Thonolan was fine with it. He didn't ask where they were going or why it was so urgent. Since the death of his wife and child, Thonolan didn’t ask a whole lot of questions anymore.

The sky was clear and the sun was warm on their backs, as the two men trekked across the steppes. They moved in silence, a couple of meters apart, like they did when they were hunting. Jondalar didn’t glance sideways. He had been worried sick about his brother these last few weeks, but today, he wasn’t concerned about Thonolan at all. All he could think of, was how to get East —to somewhere, something, _someone?_ —in the fastest possible way. He could hear the sound of his own ragged breathing. He knew he was rushing, putting the pace too high. They’d exhaust themselves if they kept this up.

Jondalar didn’t slow down. Instead, he sped up even more. Thonolan didn’t complain. He simply followed, just as lost in thought as his brother was. 

They were on open terrain, and they were experienced, but still the men didn’t spot the cave lions until it was too late. The animals seemed to materialise out of the landscape itself, their coats perfectly matching the golden brown of the plains. 

Jondalar stopped dead in his track, his hand closing instinctively around his spear. Next to him, he could feel more than see his brother do the same. They were hunters, and good ones too, but this time they were the prey. At the size of a small horse, a cave lion was an impossible adversary. And this particular cave lion was the biggest Jondalar had ever seen. The predator towered above them, shaking his reddish mane, his roar reverberating all the way in the pit of their stomachs. Quickly, Jondalar considered their options. He knew this encounter was a death sentence. Still, they were lucky it wasn’t a complete pride. Just a solitary male with his mate. If the Mother was willing and the lions weren’t on the hunt, one of them might still stand a chance of making it out of here alive. 

_Thonolan,_ Jondalar thought immediately. 

He’d protect his brother with his life. 

‘If we both aim for the male, it could be enough to cripple him. The female is smaller, she'll content herself with only one of us,’ he heard Thonolan whisper. ‘You can get away, brother.’ 

_No,_ Jondalar thought, determination settling in his stomach. You _will, brother._

He shifted his gaze towards the female to size her up. Since the male was so impressive, he hadn’t taken the time to properly look at her yet. But the moment he did, it was like the world fell away around him. Instantly, Jondalar understood that it was _she_ who he had come for; _she_ who had called him here. Not just this morning, in his dream, but long before that, at the very start of his and Thonolan’s Great Journey. She was the point to all of this. The reason they had been travelling for so long. She was the destination. 

The lioness’ yellow eyes fixed upon him; seemed to look all the way into the depths of his soul. She bared her teeth, her nose crinkling fiercely, and Jondalar felt something tug at him, deep inside his chest. A sense of longing, of _belonging,_ that he had never experienced before. Crouching low to the ground, she stalked sideways in a sweeping motion. He turned with her, trapped in her gaze. The deadly grace of her movements, the lust for the kill in her eyes. That face… There was a human quality to it, and more than that. A hint of something larger than life. A shadow from the Spirit world. There was no doubt. This was the face of his future. 

 

__

__

*

__

__  


Ayla felt her heart pound against her ribs, slow and powerful and full of purpose. There were men in front of her, not Clan men, no, men from the Others, from her own tribe, before she had turned into this new being. There were two of them, but she only had eyes for the tall one. The blond one, his hair even paler than hers. She looked into his sky-blue eyes, and knew he was the answer to her call. Inside of her, the hunger of the Great Cave Lion burned, and the voice of the Mother spoke so loud it was deafening. 

“Give me blood,” the Great Cave Lion roared, whistling, rustling, inside her own blood. 

“Give me sacrifice,’ the Holy Mother droned. “Give me your future!” 

The voices blended into one. 

_“Take your rightful place beside us, _inside_ us, and rule, Woman of Earth!”_

Ayla crouched, ready for the jump. 

 

__

__

*

__

__  


Jondalar clutched his spear, but it was nothing more than a formality. He looked into the lioness’ yellow eyes, and he knew he was finally home. 

_The Huntress._

That was the last clear thought that echoed through his mind. 

_The Great Cave Lioness._

_Diana._

_Artemis._

Ayla… 

A feeling of complete and perfect love, unknown to him before, flowed into Jondalar as the great lioness pounced. He didn’t lift his spear. He didn’t hear the cry of his brother, when the male swooped down on him in his turn, as if the animal had waited for the female to give her consent. 

To be _devoured_ by her. 

It was all Jondalar ever wanted. 

It was all Ayla ever needed. 

This sacrifice was as much hers as it was his. 

Then they both prayed to the Holy Mother in blood and pain and death. 

The man and the lioness. 

The hunter and the Goddess of Hunt. 

And when it was all over, the power of Woman came into her in full, and a shiver went through the world as it ascended to its rightful place, on earth and in the Spirit world. 

*

 

 _Ayla awoke with a start. She gazed at the familiar soot-stained ceiling above her, trying to catch her breath. It was quiet in the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii. Behind the leather screens that partitioned off their little enclosure from the rest of the camp, she could just make out the soft breathing of other people. Of_ her _people, now, she supposed._

_Next to her, Jondalar stirred. He stretched and grunted, then turned to her, hugging her a little closer, careful not to disturb Jonayla who dozed snugly between them like only a baby could. ‘Are you awake?’ he asked._

_‘I had a dream…’ Ayla whispered. The sound of her own voice sounded strange in her ears. ‘You were in it. It was like I _was_ you. And myself. At the same time.’ She shook her head, confused._

_Jondalar was still half asleep; the complexity of her words was lost on him. ‘Good dream or bad dream?’ he mumbled._

_Ayla frowned. In her arms, Jonayla made a little, almost purring sound, like a kitten. Ayla turned her head and looked at the animal skin that covered the entrance to their home. It had blown to the side during the night, and she could just see a hint of the cave’s entrance, of the rapidly paling sky outside._

_She remained quiet for a long time._

_‘I don’t know,’ she finally answered, so quiet only she could hear. ‘I don’t know…’_

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is much appreciated :-)


End file.
